Thrall of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 4)

by Bella Klaus

  Up close, his irises weren’t quite violet, nor were they crimson or any other shade related to blood. They were a rich plum, bordering on merlot, with a ring of black around the edges that formed a gradient from dark to light. White flecks ran across the middle in starbursts that reminded me of lightning bolts.

  He’d fed. Several times, judging from the glowing health of his skin, making him look like the man who had walked into the crystal shop that fateful morning. My throat dried. Too little blood made him regress into a talking corpse, and not enough turned him into a tyrant. I wasn’t quite ready to know what he’d be like with more than enough and with magic running through his veins.

  I licked my lips, the movement making him drift toward me with a glint in his eyes.

  Valentine stood so close his smoky magic caressed my skin, making every nerve tremble with anticipation. My throat dried, and I gulped, not knowing if this conversation would end with a punishment or with a kiss.

  “How can you be out in the sun?” I hoped to change the subject.

  “The wards here filter out its harmful rays. Now, explain yourself,” he said with a command that made me stand to attention.

  “We’ve already had this conversation,” I said. “You can’t keep me confined to a room, especially when there are so many dangerous people about.”

  “These rules are for your safety,” he said. “Only Our Lord and his chosen are permitted into the main house.”

  I shook my head. He was completely missing my point. It was his so-called lord I was terrified of the most. “How is forcing me to stay comatose under the influence of vampire heroin going to protect anyone?”

  His eyes hardened. “You belong to me.”

  “If you truly want me safe, you’d put me in a safe house somewhere outside the wards,” I said from between clenched teeth. “But all you want is a constant source of food and sex.”

  The corner of Valentine’s lip twitched, indicating that this was exactly what I meant to him. “This transgression merits a punishment.”

  “And what if I disobey you again?” I asked.

  “You won’t.”

  My jaw tightened. This version of Valentine was the most aggravating person who ever lived. Or in his case, died.

  Valentine’s head snapped up. “Our Lord calls.”

  I grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

  Valentine stared down at me through reddening eyes. This was the first warning that I was overstepping my place. I met his gaze with a glower, wishing my eyes could also change color. As they couldn’t, I settled for baring my teeth.

  “You have something of mine,” I snarled.

  His brows rose.

  “That heart,” I said. “It belongs to me.”

  His lips spread into a grin of sharp teeth. “The one that was extracted from my body?”

  “The heart that I brought back to life with my magic, yes,” I said with some bite. “Where is it?”

  “If I gave you my heart, what would you do with it?” he asked in a voice that curled around my senses.

  My throat thickened. That heart contained my soulmate, the man I loved and respected. Valentine’s body was… my gaze flickered up and down his muscular form. His deadly, delectable, domineering, muscular form. I might have trusted him once, but I couldn’t now. Not while he was under the influence of Kresnik.

  He raised his brows, indicating that he was waiting for me to answer.

  “I’d keep it close and love it as much as I love my own.” My throat thickened as I said the words.

  “That won’t be necessary.” His expression didn’t change.

  My heart stuttered, and I placed my hand on his chest, hoping I could feel something beating. When I didn’t, my insides tightened with trepidation, and I forced out the words, “Who’s got your heart?”

  Valentine’s head tilted to the side as though he’d heard something from afar, and he scooped me into his arms.

  My stomach lurched and a spike of adrenaline lanced my chest. “Put me down.” I gave him a hard thump. “I’m not your property!”

  “Your punishment will wait,” he said in a voice that suggested he’d just added my assault on his person to my list of transgressions. “Our Lord calls.”

  Valentine stalked toward the mansion, holding me to his chest. I glanced over my shoulder. Macavity had returned to the ground and stared at us through sad green eyes. Maybe I was just projecting my own emotions on the cat, but it looked like he’d missed spending time with us and just wanted to return home.

  I sent a silent promise to Macavity that I would find a way for us to be together. Apart from my teammates, he was my only friend within the Flame. I certainly didn’t count Valentine among my allies, even if he saw himself as my benevolent master. Most responsible owners didn’t mistreat their pets, but they also didn’t drug them to stay put.

  No matter how much I wriggled and shoved and kicked, Valentine’s grip on my body remained absolute. As we reached the door that led to the Flame’s stairwell, the growl he released sent a thrill of terror down my spine. I clamped my mouth shut, not wanting to worsen my impending punishment.

  “Could you put me down, please?” I asked in a much calmer voice. “Everyone’s going to think I’m your cow.”

  He stared down at me with a smirk. “That saves me from making the announcement.”

  I flinched at the words, letting them settle before I ground my teeth. Why was I even trying to argue with this version of Valentine? He was nearly as big a tyrant as Kresnik.

  Maybe I needed to play along with Valentine, too. I added finding his heart to my list of things to do, which included restoring my power so I could bring him back to life.

  As we walked down the hallway, people inclined their heads at him and a few of them bowed. I made a note to discover what kinds of things he’d been doing in these meetings to garner so much respect. Two large men in denim donkey jackets stood by a door and bowed as they opened it for Valentine. It led to a restored-to-new ritual room one, where Kresnik sat on a wooden throne.

  My throat dried as I took in Kresnik’s new appearance. His features had morphed into those of the sun god from the portraits, looking nothing like Father Jude. It was as though Kresnik had consumed his host in the two days that had passed. That, or he was a genius at creating illusions.

  The one thing that differed from the picture was his hair. Instead of the burnt orange with golden highlights, it flowed down to his shoulders like sheets of blood. It looked peculiar against his bronze skin and contrasted with his white shirt and pants.

  Aurora stood at his right side like a bodyguard, and a red-haired woman about my age who looked curvaceous in a flowing white gown stood on his left. The way she fawned over him said that she wasn’t his daughter. I shook off that thought. But then, this was Kresnik, the man who freely admitted to marrying his own sister. The woman was probably his great-great-granddaughter or something equally as heinous.

  “There she is,” Kresnik said in a sharp voice that made the fine hairs on the back of my hair stand on end.

  As Valentine set me on my feet, Kresnik raised his hand and beckoned me over.

  My quadriceps stiffened, and the muscles in my back bunched. Every instinct in my body told me to run, but common sense reminded me I wouldn’t get very far. I turned to Valentine, silently pleading for him to whisk me away from this ritual-cum-throne room, but he placed a hand on the small of my back and walked me toward the self-styled god.

  “You have her well trained,” Kresnik said. “Aurora informed me that she was willful.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Valentine replied in a monotone.

  A shudder ran down my spine. If Valentine were alive and in control of his heart, he would tear Kresnik’s heart out for what he did to the previous Vampire King.

  “It’s alright, my daughter,” Kresnik said, beckoning me closer. “There’s no need to be afraid.”

  A rapid beat thrummed in my heart, quickening with each step I took toward t
he throne. I had several reasons to fear this man, the first being the amount of time he’d spent in Hell. Brimstone filled my nostrils and rubbed against my sinuses like steel wool. If eternal damnation had a scent, it would smell like Kresnik.

  As I reached the base of his dais, he flicked down his fingers, indicating for me to prostrate myself.

  Bile rose to the back of my throat. I wasn’t one of his groupies, but I also wasn’t foolish enough to get myself killed over something as trivial as pride. I knelt at his feet, keeping my gaze to the ground.

  “You’ve been busy today,” said Kresnik.

  “Have I?”

  “Hemera,” Aurora hissed.

  A tense silence followed that was quiet enough to make my ears ring. Jagged magic crackled against my skin, feeling like both fire and broken glass. It was a warning and a promise that the next time I spoke out of turn, he would use his immense power to shred me into pieces.

  After what felt like an eternity, someone giggled. I peered up through my lashes to find the woman with her hand over her mouth.

  Kresnik chuckled. “I was referring to your little musical performance in the infirmary. What do you call it?”

  “Sound healing,” I replied, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. “With Tibetan singing bowls.”

  He clapped his hands together, making me flinch. “How fascinating. Now, I must ask you a special favor.”

  My throat dried, and my pulse tripled in speed. I never agreed to attend an academy, never agreed to help them with their war, and I certainly never agreed to become involved with a man who slaughtered his enemies and raised them from the dead as his puppets.

  “Look at me.” Kresnik leaned forward and reached out a hand toward my face.

  I flinched, a sharp breath whistling through my teeth.

  Valentine’s low growl made the man withdraw his hand and lean back into his seat.

  Some of the tension around my heart loosened at Valentine’s attempt to protect me, although a more cynical voice in the back of my head interpreted the growl as a warning not to touch his food. Either way, I wasn't complaining.

  “Hemera,” Kresnik said in a deceptively warm voice. “Look at your father.”

  I tilted my head up and fixed my gaze on the bridge of his nose. “Yes?”

  “No more sound healing.”

  My lips parted, but I held my tongue, struggling to phrase my question. All I had done was play a few instruments to a group of people. Whatever Healer Calla was doing for them hadn’t worked because they were all scratching and rubbing at themselves as though they’d been infested with fleas.

  “May I ask why?” I asked.

  “You may address me as Father or My Lord.” All the warmth left his voice, revealing the sinister man I’d met the day I had spoken to Father Jude about my parentage.

  Right now, I couldn’t tell if this was a challenge to Valentine, a warning to me, or a clue that might reveal how I might defeat him.

  I lowered my gaze to his chin and murmured, “May I ask why, Father?”

  He turned to Aurora. “Let’s not replenish Valentine’s cold store of blood. I would hate to deprive the local hospitals of vital resources.”

  My throat thickened, and an ache spread across my chest. This was his third attempt to engineer my death. The first had been when his shadow cursed me with the blood lure, the second was the night of his resurrection, when he’d handed me over to a ravenous Valentine, and now today. Removing the blood packs from Valentine’s room meant that my accidental death was imminent.

  I held my breath, sending out a prayer to every deity imaginable that Kresnik didn’t ask me to hand over those blood stabilizers. Without them… A lump formed in the back of my throat. Even if Valentine was careful, he was still a preternatural who had developed a taste for my blood. Kresnik probably wanted him to get overexcited and end my life.

  “Valentine,” Kresnik drawled. “Keep your pet under better control and don’t allow her to concern herself with my affairs.”

  “Yes, My Lord.” Valentine inclined his head.

  “Dismissed.”

  Valentine gathered me in his arms and walked out of the throne room, through the hallways, and into Kenwood House. The tense silence he maintained throughout the short journey promised a terrible punishment. I hadn’t just disobeyed his order to stay put but got him summoned by Kresnik.

  Fear clutched at my insides until acid burned the back of my throat. Valentine would punish me, or worse, inject me with more of that thrall.

  It was still light outside when we reached his suite within Kenwood House, and Valentine deposited me at the side of the bed and stood in front of the crackling fire. I parted my lips to warn him that he could get burned but clamped my lips shut. The denim uniform was fireproof.

  “Take off your cloak,” he said in a voice as cold as his anger.

  My fingers trembled as I obeyed his command and let the garment fall onto the rug.

  “And your gown.”

  My muscles tightened, and goosebumps prickled across my skin. “Valentine, please don’t—”

  “Now,” he growled.

  A jolt of terror pierced my chest, negating all the effects of the sound healing. I placed my trembling fingers on the white dress, but my hands dropped to my sides. This was… My gaze dipped to the rug. I couldn’t take off my clothes and submit to Valentine. Even when a refusal would make my punishment worse.

  In the blink of an eye, Valentine crossed the room and glowered down at me through irises as red as blood. I flinched, caught in his gaze, but my legs quaked so much they wouldn’t function.

  “Please, don’t make me do this.” Even my voice shook.

  “I should have done this to you from the start.” Valentine grabbed the neckline of my gown with both hands and tore the garment into two, just as he had done the night of Kresnik’s resurrection.

  A sob caught in the back of my throat.

  With a deft movement of his hand, the air shifted, pulling the pieces off my body and laying me bare. I folded my arms over my bare chest, but he grabbed my wrists.

  “Never hide yourself from me,” he snarled.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks. When Valentine’s soul had said similar words, they had been romantic, expressing the depth of his admiration. Now, it sounded like a threat.

  His magic tore the covers off the bed, fashioning them into ropes. My breath hitched as my mind conjured up a dozen ways for me to die. Suffocation, exsanguination… eventual starvation. It was hard to tell when I wasn’t sure how much control Kresnik exercised over Valentine.

  “This is for your own safety, Innamorata,” he murmured so quietly into my ear that I thought I’d imagined the words.

  My breathing slowed, and I whispered, “What?”

  With the softest of touches, his fingertips grazed my skin, sending shivers of arousal down to my core. I squeezed my thighs together, hoping he just intended to put me over his knee for a spanking.

  Valentine’s eyes darkened until the red of his irises became a thin ring around wide pupils. The tips of his fangs protruded from his lips, and he lowered his gaze down my naked body.

  I swallowed hard, trying to think of a way to reason with Valentine. “You can’t keep me cooped up in this room, and if I’d known the sound healing would—”

  Valentine lurched forward and plunged his fangs into my neck, and I opened my mouth in a silent scream.

  As I prepared my mind for death, cold liquid seeped through my veins and spread across my skull. My eyes bulged. Keeping me under the influence of thrall hadn’t worked the first time. Why did Valentine think it would work now? As the substance worked its way through my system, all the tension around my muscles loosened, and euphoria spread across my chest.

  My knees collapsed, but Valentine caught me with an arm around my back, and slid me into the warmth of the bed.

  “This time,” he snarled, “when I order you to stay in this room, do not leave.”

  My
lips parted, and I exhaled a long breath. Anything I wanted to say got lost in the sensation of my soul rising to the canopy of the four-poster. As numbness spread across my limbs, Valentine adjusted the covers around my neck, wrapping me in a cocoon of blankets.

  I don’t know how much time passed before I resurfaced, but when I tried to open my eyes, a familiar male voice said, “Dear oh dear, Miss Griffin. You appear to be in a rather sticky situation.”

  Chapter Seven

  The voice continued drifting in and out of my awareness. Sometimes, it sounded like it came from underwater, other times it was the barest whisper. Even when the words reached my ears with perfect clarity, they slid over my consciousness. Nothing, not even a disembodied voice taunting me about my current state, could penetrate the fog cocooning my consciousness.

  My breath came in shallow pants as I placed my palms on the soft-as-clouds mattress and tried to haul myself up. Somehow, it felt like sticking my hands into mist and expecting it to be solid.

  Betrayal sliced through my insides like a dagger. Valentine had said he was acting for my safety, but how could he drug me again and leave me alone in this room?

  Something was off about him, and I wasn’t just talking about his deference to Kresnik. It was hard to tell if Valentine was hoarding me like he hoarded those men in the basement or genuinely wanted to keep me safe. From the way he had reacted earlier, I would say it was a combination of both.

  Soft light streamed through my eyelids, and the crackle of the fireplace reached my ears. I exhaled a long breath through my nostrils and slid my palms over the silk sheets. At least the thrall was easing off a little… for now.

  “Miss Griffin?” The voice from before reached me with perfect clarity, as though its owner leaned over the bed and spoke into my ears.

  I sent a message to my eye muscles to twitch or open their lids a fraction, but they wouldn’t cooperate. My stomach hardened with the onset of frustration.

  The voice huffed. “It’s been an entire day, and this cow is showing no signs of stirring.”

  “Shut up,” I slurred.

  “So, she’s awake,” he said.